


Choice

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: The Lion, the Wolf and the Dragon [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Discussion of Riders, Gen, Preparation for War, Trust, disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: Tyrion doesn't think he is worthy of being a dragon rider.Daenerys thinks otherwise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Third installment

As Arya was being sent to the North, messengers had been dispatched to every old supporter of the Targaryens and houses that were in weak positions with offers of help from the Dragon Queen in exchange for support. The Dornish were the first to respond with men of their own, as Tyrion had expected, but he felt it necessary to warn Daenerys that they might not take too kindly to him. “Ever since the Mountain killed your brother’s wife and children, they have held deep hatred in their hearts for Lannisters.”

 

“They supported my family for years before the Usuper,” Daenerys replied confidently. “You are my Hand, and if there are objections they can take it up with me personally.”

 

Daenerys had no illusions that her army would be kept a secret for long. News traveled all too quickly and her arrival was announced to Westeros even as they learned that Riverrun was under Lannister and Frey control. Rumors that the Starks had retaken Winterfell arrived just as quickly. Daenerys was all the more anxious for them, asking every day if a raven from Arya had been received.

 

The dragons learned the skies and flew further every day, until one night only Drogon returned. His loyalty to Daenerys made it difficult for him to fly far without her on his back, but the others had no riders to keep them grounded. Despite this, they came back eventually, Rhaegal after another two days and Viserion five. “If Westeros was not certain of your return before, Your Grace, they will be now,” Tyrion told Daenerys from his place at her side. Preparations for war were being made all around, from training to making repairs to the ancient fortress as they could. Behind him, Rhaegal shuffled forward on his belly until he could settle next to Tyrion. The dwarf absently ran a hand over his scaly head while Daenerys looked on with interest.

 

“He’s very fond of you,” she said.

 

“And I of him,” Tyrion responded with a small smile.

 

She watched them appraisingly but said nothing more, and in time Rhaegal was falling asleep pressed against Tyrion’s side despite the clamor of steel around them.

 

**

 

Daenerys toyed with the idea that Tyrion could be Rhaegal’s rider. A saddle would have to be made for him, to be sure, but he had told her of his own designs for himself. She had no doubts that he could design a saddle for Rhaegal as he had previously designed them for horses.

 

But the logistics weren’t what was important. What struck her the most was how affectionate of Tyrion Rhaegal was. The little (compared to Drogon) dragon sought Tyrion out as soon as he touched ground and no longer flew so far away from Dragonstone. He curled around Tyrion like a cat at any given opportunity if the dwarf would only be still for long enough for him to do so, and when a Dothraki began speaking angrily in Tyrion’s direction, Rhaegal hissed until the warrior turned away. The bond that Tyrion had spoken of was there, almost tangible. Daenerys was the dragon mother, but Tyrion was a choice, it seemed. She briefly wondered if she should be more put out that her dragon preferred another over herself, but all she felt was pride. Pride in herself, her dragons, her chosen Hand. Pride for everything she had created.

 

She brought up the matter first to Ser Barristan. “Should I let this develop on its own?” she inquired after explaining everything she had seen and getting his assurance that he had noticed as well.

 

“That is up to you, my queen,” he said gently. “But I would suggest to Lord Tyrion your thoughts; the same may have crossed his mind, but perhaps he is unwilling to bring it up for fear of disrespecting you, Your Grace. They are _your_ dragons, after all. No one would dare lay claim to them; we have all seen what happens to those who try.”

 

“Tyrion is not a master,” Daenerys said confidently. “And his respect for me has nothing to do with this; his respect for Rhaegal, however, has everything to do with it.” She nodded decisively and left him to rejoin Asha in training the inexperienced Ironborn.

 

**

 

“You do not truly believe that I am to be Rhaegal’s rider,” Tyrion said in disbelief. “I am in no way worthy of that honor. I am a Lannister, a dwarf. I have murdered my own father, I am disfigured, I have nothing to offer such a magnificent—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Your Grace, I am a cursed man. A dragon would never choose someone like me.”

 

“ _My_ family’s history is bloody,” Daenerys told him. “The books do not go far enough in that history as to tell us why the dragons and Targaryens were united in the first place. No one truly understands how a dragon and a man are linked, and yet they are. Rhaegal has claimed you as his own; it is to you he goes when he returns from flight, even before me. He no longer stands behind Drogon as Viserion does, but next to you. If he perceives a threat to you, he makes as if to protect you.” She took a seat so that they were of a height. “You are worthy, Tyrion Lannister, whether you believe it or not. If you don’t believe it of yourself, then please, believe _me_.”

 

Tyrion’s eyes dropped to the pin he wore on his chest, proof of her faith in him. He nodded slowly. “I…I don’t know where to begin,” he said slowly.

 

“Neither did I,” Daenerys admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. You’ll learn, you and Rhaegal both, together.”

 

It was the middle of the night when Rhaegal returned from a two-day excursion to the mainland, silhouetted against the moon. Tyrion woke immediately, unable to say why, but the soft cry outside of the worn castle alerted him to the arrival of the dragons. Daenerys already stood on the beach, hair gleaming silver in the light. Drogon brought his face level with hers, clawed feet in the water, watching her intently. Rhaegal was closer, already creeping silently across the ground to Tyrion. He went forward to meet the dragon and stopped just in front of him. “Hello, friend,” he whispered.

 

Rhaegal snuffled softly and curved his body around Tyrion like a cat, wing brushing across his cheek until the dragon settled like that, curled head-to-tail so that Tyrion couldn’t leave without climbing over him. So he didn’t try, but tucked himself in the crook of Rhaegal’s knee. He was lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of the dragon’s side, warmed by the fire deep within its belly.


End file.
